Here are a couple of tasty snippets from MIRROR SECRET MIRROR…
The new outfit was definitely impressive. The classic, floral-pattern dress was pleasingly colourful. The upper part was loose, narrowing to hug close around the middle, before billowing out along sharp diagonals around the hips. The flowery collar and charming cherry-buttons finished it off quaintly. Somehow, it made Jess think of a child’s drawing of a dress: pencil-sketched in two dimensions. She smiled and twirled coquettishly in admiration of the design. It was cute and quirky… and went so well with her red fifties spectacles. Rounded red shoes and a dainty pair of white socks completed the look. Like an old-fashioned secretary. She’d done her make-up this morning, but the lipstick could use a touch-up – the bright colour matching the shoes and glasses. Maybe put her hair up in a loose bun? That would fit perfectly.
Jess pouted into the glass as she beautified herself. She really did look like a fifties/sixties office-girl. The fresh-faced, enthusiastic kind whose ass the boss just couldn’t resist slapping. She wiggled her buttocks into the mirror and imagined him giving them an encouraging little pat. Or a forceful smack! Perhaps pulling up the circle-rim of the dress so he could spank a rosy handprint directly onto the soft, white cheek. Maybe hold her skirt up and sit back, in the executive chair, to admire the view. Her posing with buttocks plumped invitingly. A sly smile at how eager-to-please she was. Gritting his teeth and squeezing powerful hands around the curves of her hips, pulling her body back onto him. Long legs swept wide as he sits her directly between them. Feeling his big, thick dick pushing up against her vulnerability. Throbbing as the shaft begins to engorge. Surely he wasn’t going to brutally fuck the youthful innocence out of his new office-girl?! Not on her first day of work?
Jess could imagine herself held tight around the waist, being bounced up and down on top of him. The boss thrusting his greedy cock in and out. Her squealing louder and louder. Him pounding her harder and harder, having his fun before pulling out to spray come all over her ass, warm spunk splashing across the cheeks. Then just dumping her exhausted body over the desk: face down, make-up streaked and smudged, hair scattered and splayed, steam-clouded glasses barely hanging from her nose, sticky streaks of come dripping down her thighs. Oh fuck! Maybe she should touch up her make-up regularly throughout the day? Surely that would tempt him to come out and ruin it. Come out and ruin her!
…
Coming to a turn in the passageway, a jumbled fuse box hung off the wall directly ahead. The corridor must turn right behind that final set of shelves to pass under the forbidden chamber. Or perhaps there’d be stairs leading up to it? Would he be waiting? The anticipation tinkled. However, as she approached it became apparent there was no corner: just a solid brick wall. A deadend. Shit! Although one of the bricks jutted out conspicuously. Obviously it wasn’t a hidden lever operating a secret door. Jess pressed the brick quickly several times before her rationality had a chance to catch up. Nothing happened, of course, but it was worth a try. Actually, she did attempt to push a few other potential clandestine levers. They also turned out to be ordinary bricks.
Imagine there was a hidden lever. The kind where the wall suddenly rotates and you end up on the other side. In the place below the secret room. Beneath it! Perhaps even worse things happen down there?! She visualised being transported to the other side, naked flames dancing with shadows… torches on stone columns… the silhouette of a tall man, standing silently across the chamber. Facing directly. Watching… fierce eyes burning out of the darkness. Too gloomy to see anything else… just the outline of a muscular figure, unclothed from the waist up, standing and waiting patiently. His posture changing now; only a slim movement, but startling. The head dropping minutely, brow sharpening, shoulders angling forward. The body language of a predator, in the moment before moving in on cornered prey.
The expression on her face in the moment she realises she’s gone too far… been drawn in too deep… and now suddenly wanting to escape. Escape! Panic gripping hold, hands scrabbling at the wall’s lost levers. Nothing there! Just normal bricks. Him advancing, slow stealthy paces… slinking. No need for him to rush; there’s no escape for her now. Relishing the scent of her fear. Sadism salivating… building an appetite. Desperate attempts to reverse the rotating wall, frantically clutching at the brickwork, fists beating hopelessly against stone… helplessly. Screaming. Pleading. The predator moving slower and slower, drawing closer and closer. Really wallowing in the suffering of anticipation. The terrified prey unable to bring herself to turn as he looms up behind. Face against the cold stone, eyes tight-shut, arms spread and palms flat against the wall, whole body quivering, voiceless-ness shuddering. A dark shadow falling. The warm breath of a red-blooded carnivore on the back of her neck. A long pause…
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